


An Introduction to Criminal Psychology

by hovercraft, miyari



Category: Fate/Grand Order, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Mob, Bartenders, College, Crimes & Criminals, Education, Kissing, M/M, Rating May Change, Sex, Sexual Content, Tension, University
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 15:22:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29778168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hovercraft/pseuds/hovercraft, https://archiveofourown.org/users/miyari/pseuds/miyari
Summary: Arthur is just another student working to pay his way through school, mixing drinks at a friend's family bar. It’s a relatively mundane job despite the expected motley assortment of patrons, including one group in particular that happens to be involved with a criminal family. Arthur's sole focus is to stay in school and stay out of trouble-- but trouble finds him first, and finds himattractive.
Relationships: Gilgamesh | Archer/Arthur Pendragon | Saber
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	An Introduction to Criminal Psychology

Why drink in this weather?

(Rain is a good enough reason to drink, it’s just silly to go out to the bar to do it, but drinking at home is kinda sad, he guessed.) The rain had been pouring down all day. How desperate for a drink would you have to be to justify coming out here in such weather? He supposes they figure there’s nothing better to do on a night like this than go out and drink until you forget everything including the shitty weather outside. 

That’s what Arthur wondered as he cleaned glasses behind the counter of the bar. It was a simple gig, something perfectly suited for a college student, but he still had to deal with rowdy people who demanded drinks, his number, and other things best not spoken of. As the rain pitter-pattered against the glass, the same four people came in as usual.

At least due to the weather it wouldn’t be very busy, which thankfully keeps the noise and general bullshit he has to deal with to a minimum. While the job itself was relatively simple, it did require tough skin at times to handle more boisterous patrons. The bouncer, Beowulf was quick to handle the most rowdy of the lot, but Arthur was still subjected to the salacious requests of the slightly more well behaved patrons as they slurred asks for everything from free drinks to his phone number, and some more unseemly propositions.

A blond man and three guys in suits were the four who walked in. They always occupied the back booth, and Arthur was strictly instructed (by his boss) to never interact with them. If they order drinks, give them drinks. Don’t say a word. Arash was firm about that, but forbidden fruit was all the more tempting. Arthur couldn’t help but cast glances their way, in a non-suspicious way.

Tonight the bar was mostly empty except for a few lifetime members who likely had no place better to be. A rather rowdy group of Irishmen tended to stop by after work, Cu, Diarmuid, Fergus-- He was slightly surprised to see the four men in their nice suits come in, folding their umbrellas by the door. They made their way to their regular booth at the back, talking amongst themselves and paying no mind to the stares from the regular guests or Arthur’s own stolen glances from behind the bar. While he was generally expected to extend the same gracious c ordiality to all guests, he had received specific instructions from his zealous manager to not fuck with. 

The waitstaff-- one woman in particular, Passionlip, knew how to delicately handle the group and did it by the book. She would approach them, get their orders, make sure the drinks were perfect and then take them right back to the group, minimizing any staff interaction, and therefore, Arthur’s knowledge, to sheer necessity only.

Other than for their peculiar appearances, suits that were a bit more upscale and voices a tad louder than those of the regular clientele (Fitting, considering their clothes were as loud as their voices), there wasn’t much reason to pay the group much mind. It would have never even occurred to Arthur that these people were dangerous had he not been firmly told otherwise shortly after his hire.

He didn’t get the full details and was under the impression he should probably be thankful for that. All he knew was that these people were important, less-than-legal figures of this area, and this bar was indebted to them. “Free drinks, (no trouble, nobody gets hurt)”. Arthur couldn’t imagine any reason why he would get hurt, his drink mixing skills weren’t that bad. Arthur did as he was told and polished glasses, mixed drinks, and paid no mind to the mafia in the corner.

The group were generally well-behaved anyway, as far as the actions of bar patrons go. In their flashy, almost vocal attire, they’d occasionally get a bit too drunk and mess with the one woman who was paid very well to handle them. Arthur was thankful he’d never have to deal with them for any reason like that, that's what Beowulf was for, though he also couldn’t remember any time that Beowulf had gotten involved, either.

Arthur had to admit to himself that there was one individual who, were it not for the potential heinous baggage and the (numerous!) warnings Arthur received, he wouldn’t mind getting to know. He wasn’t as loud as the others or their flashy suits, and he wore the most bizarre clothing sometimes (who even owns a leopard spotted blazer?), but he had a subtle beauty that Arthur couldn’t ignore. Okay, it wasn’t subtle. The blond man was  _ gorgeous _ . If it weren’t for his station at the bar, and his desire to stay alive, Arthur could see himself waltzing his ass right on over there and introducing himself. Give him a free drink (no, Arthur, why would that matter when all drinks are free?) and maybe ask for his number.

Again, though, Arthur was strictly forbidden from such things. He didn’t think he’d get fired or anything, but didn’t want to risk it. Law school didn't pay for itself. Also you can’t go to law school when you’re dead, sinking to the bottom of the lake in cement shoes, or whatever it is they do.

The blonde was as much of a mystery as the rest of the group. Had they not come in together every time he wouldn’t have even associated the blond with the rest of the lot. He dressed like a celebrity, someone too famous for their admittedly average bar. He wore expensive golden jewelry similar to his compatriots but rather than donning an equally as pricey suit, he dressed down in a plain white top and eccentrically patterned pants. They are ridiculous pants, Arthur thought. They’re probably designer ridiculous pants that cost more than all three years of Arthur’s Law School tuition.

Every now and then, he’d catch the blond looking his way. Arthur would politely avert his eyes avoid meeting his. He’d make another drink for Fergus and Cu, smiling and nodding at whatever tall tale was being spun by their lot, and go about his business. Arthur was warned never to make any trouble-- for himself, or anyone else. Uther was very firm about that. The only involvement Arthur would ever have with the mafia would be staring a bit more than he should at times, and certainly, he wouldn’t go to jail for stealing looks.  And looks would have to do, because Arthur knew what was good for him. Getting involved with some potentially dangerous individuals, at his place of employment no less, would be ill-advised.

However, he couldn’t help but notice that the blond man seemed… lonely. He never arrived alone, and the group he was with seemed to be a good natured lot (for mafia), but he always seemed a bit disconnected. He would never laugh so enthusiastically at the others’ jokes, instead offering a polite chuckle (perhaps a scoff?) before returning to the quiet nursing of his drink. He would then continue his subtle, yet strangely menacing, survey of the bar and its denizens, very rarely even uttering a word. 

This perceived loneliness made him want to talk to him even more, but Arthur had a feeling he was motivated purely by his own empathy. The blond was no wounded kitten, he was like a lion with a thorn in his paw and Arthur no more than a mere mouse.

Arash snapped him out of his too-many-thoughts trance and told him his shift was over, and that was that. He could never stay too late, given class. Picking up an umbrella from the lost and found, Arthur unfolded it and walked out into the evening, back to his dorm in this old-school college town.

\--

He hoped that the blond-haired man and his cohorts wouldn’t haunt his mind any further, but obviously, he’d encounter them again at work. That made it hard  _ not  _ to think of them. Because the bar wasn’t as busy and he didn’t work as late, he had more time to ruminate over them.

While the exact nature of their business was unknown to him (what does the mafia even do, anyway?), he knew of occasional drug busts and other criminal activities that made the headlines from time to time. His father, once a cop, now a politician in the making, rarely talked about his work and Arthur knew better than to ask. 

He had Uther and his previous job as a cop to thank for a rather lonely high school career. Arthur had never been popular with his classmates at school because of it. Nobody liked a potential narc, and Arthur seemed to be too wholesome of a boy to trust. He never got in any messes of his own, and was never invited to anybody else’s trouble, either.

He had precious few friends despite his outgoing, almost too-friendly personality, or perhaps because of it. Arthur was kind almost in a way to make up for his father’s shadow, as if he knew that he needed to be more than the cold, stern father he grew up. Arash, Arthur’s oldest friend, was gracious enough to get him the job at the bar. Arash had confidence in the fact that Arthur’s personality was a great fit, and likely hoped that in gaining new friends, he could step down from the role of being Arthur’s  _ only  _ friend.

Thinking back to the man wearing gold… Arthur had a few questions. Mostly, about the group he hung out with.

Was he paying reverence to them, or was it the other way around? Was he the focus of the group?

Arash rarely answered him directly, but one thing was clear-- the blond was the son of someone important. Having his favor would never steer them wrong. Arash was a good person, fundamentally and outwardly. He usually would never let this sort of thing push him around, so… perhaps he had his secrets too?

Due to the wind, the umbrella was hardly doing anything to keep himself dry, but Arthur pressed on. Why were those eyes always trained on him, a nobody bartender who did his best cleaning shot glasses?

\----

Arthur’s dorm was filled with white-painted brick and fluorescent lighting. It was shitty, and borderline unlivable, but it wasn’t his dad’s place and that’s what counted (not that he had a choice of staying there-- Uther kicked him out when he enrolled.) At least he had a room to himself, stocked with all the comforts and style one could get from a sale at Target.

Arthur slung off his shirt, wanting to rid himself of the smell of the bar. It was then that his phone went off. He rolled his eyes, knowing that with Arash still working at the bar, there was only one person it could be.

“Are you studying?”

He sighed and grabbed his phone, swiping it open and glancing at the message with little surprise. The text message, with proper grammar and capitalization, came from his father, who concerned himself only with his son’s productivity and not his well-being. His father didn’t care for his job, but Uther was more concerned with spending his money on his campaign rather than the care of his only son, so Arthur didn’t exactly have pocket money unless he earned it.

“Yes, dad, I’m studying.”

Arthur had just sat in a beanbag chair scrolling his phone, but sure. Studying.

“Good. I expect your most recent grades as soon as they’re posted.”

Arthur knew better than to sarcastically respond ‘I love you, too’, because then he’d get an earful about sass. He decided to leave dear old dad on read and swiped away the bitchy conversation. He stared at his phone and sighed, tossing it aside to his bed. His contact list was so utterly barren that even the pizza guy got addressed by name. Arthur wondered if his life would always be like this-- trying to break through the barrier he’d made for himself while trying to be a perfect son or suffer the consequences.

He didn’t know that it would change, very soon.

\--

What the hell was a mafia son doing in  _ Criminal Science _ ?

That was Arthur’s first admittedly prejudiced thought, before ‘oh god, does he recognize me?’ Arthur quickly shifted his focus to retrieving his laptop, fidgeting with his bag’s zipper and different pockets inside, while trying to act as inconspicuous as possible. He was so focused on avoiding locking his gaze with those serpentine, red eyes, that he lost focus of his surroundings, and knocked his stainless steel water bottle to the floor as he set his laptop on the desk. The sound reverberated through the auditorium, drawing many glances his way, including that of the certain blond he was trying so hard to avoid.

Those fucking eyes were suddenly upon him. The other blond took one look at him, gave a smirk, and walked right over, taking the seat right next to Arthur. It was an action bordering on offensive, with a fully open lecture hall filled with empty seats, and Arthur wasn’t sure if he was impressed with his boldness or utterly terrified by it.

“How’s the professor?” No introduction, not that Arthur wanted one.

“Well-rated online…” Arthur tried not to sound nervous, exhausted already in voice. “Assigns a lot of homework, but we’re allowed to take tests online.”

  
“Hm.”

“If you want to catch up on the notes, you can copy what’s on my screen.” Arthur had said it before he even thought about the repercussions, wanting to drive his attention away from him by letting him focus on the laptop but accidentally inviting him closer. The blond had never shown up to this class before, but it's possible he was a recent transfer. If he’s even enrolled here at all, Arthur thought with some nervous speculation. 

“How generous of you, Arthur.”

“You know my name?” Those speculations turned into conspiracy theories firing off in his head in an instant.

  
“Hard not to overhear it at the bar.” The blond looked at him, as if judging if he was worthy to hear his name, then expectantly waited for Arthur to ask for it.

“And… you are?”

“Gilgamesh.” Arthur didn’t recall the name from any news headlines, which was good.

“Nice to meet you.”

“Turn your screen towards me, I need to copy.”

Well, after Arthur offered, he couldn’t not. Gilgamesh’s dexterous hands typed quickly, following the exact notes Arthur had made to the letter. Since the class had only started last week, there wasn’t much to write down, and they had twenty minutes to kill before class started. Arthur sat awkwardly in his chair, nearly holding his breath as Gilgamesh scrolled his laptop for more notes, worried a notification would pop up that would incriminate him somehow.

But all that happened was Gilgamesh turning the laptop back towards him. No thanks. Not even a little show of appreciation. Arthur rationalized that giving his name must have been his way of thanking him.

“You look different today, when you’re not shilling liquor. More… plain.”

His comment caught Arthur off guard, though he shouldn’t have been too surprised. He looked down at his ratty school sweatpants before stealing a quick glance at Gilgamesh, who was wearing even more ostentatious pants than those from the night before. Where do you even buy clothing like that? He didn’t have any right to talk.

“Huh? Ah, yeah... I recognize you. You come by with a group quite often.” Immediately, Arthur was hit with a pang of self-consciousness, as though he just implied Gilgamesh was an alcoholic. Immediately, he was struck with the need to change the subject.

“Mmm, it’s something to do…” Gilgamesh sighed wistfully, almost coyly. “but the alcohol is never to my taste.”

“I’m… sorry? You like Sidecars, don’t you?”

“It isn’t my first choice, but your wine selection is an insult. At least any idiot bartender can correctly prepare a Sidecar.”

_ Hey, I’m the idiot bartender that makes your drinks _ , Arthur thought to himself.  _ If the drinks are so bad, why are you there all the time?  _ He wouldn’t dare ask. This guy was a piece of work.

Regardless, Gilgamesh didn’t deign to say anything else to Arthur for the rest of the class, which Arthur was thankful for. Gilgamesh folded his laptop, packed his things, and left.

Arthur wondered if he should take a different seat, next time.

\--

Arthur texted Arash the moment he had a free second.

ARTHUR: the guy from the bar is in my criminal science class

ARTHUR: the blond one. Gilgamesh. what do i do???

_ Typing… _

ARASH: wait, how do you know his name?!

ARTHUR: we talked. i couldn’t avoid it.

ARASH: wonder what a guy like that is doing, being allowed in college.

ARTHUR: pretty sure the college doesn’t have a no mob allowed rule...

ARASH: look, you should stay away from him.

ARTHUR: why? it’s not like he’s going to indoctrinate me just because we share a class.

ARASH: we need to talk.

ARASH: somewhere that isn’t the bar.

ARASH: meet me at… that cafe on the corner of Center Street.

ARASH: i’ll be there in a minute.

That was all that Arthur got.

He didn’t have any classes for the rest of the day, so he got into his inherited car and drove down to the cafe, circling the block for a parking space and securing a table in the busy coffee shop. Sipping on an iced coffee while waiting, Arash arrived not long after.

He looked worried, and Arthur didn’t like that.

“Okay, so--” Arash lowered his voice. “Gilgamesh.”

“What about him?”

“You know my father owns the bar, right? Rarely comes by. Anyway, he… owes a lot of money to Gilgamesh’s family. I don’t know the specifics. All I know is they have an arrangement-- a ‘tab’ that my father pays off with their drinks and the bar’s earnings. They let him keep enough to keep the bar running, and put food on the table.”

Arthur was shocked to hear it. To think that someone could do something like that to someone else… and then just sit by him in his class. Maybe Gilgamesh was uninvolved, though? Maybe he just… went there? Arthur realized he was giving a mob member too much credit.

“What should I do? We share a class now, and he knows my name--”

“Don’t get involved with him. Move seats. Study somewhere else. Change majors. He’ll get the hint.”

At that, Arthur felt a pang of… something. Nobody wanted to get close to him because of his father. Was the same true of Gilgamesh? His father was a mob boss, which was a very different situation, but still. His overly haughty demeanor was probably why he didn’t have many friends, but even so...

  
  


At that, Arthur felt a pang of… something. Nobody wanted to get close to him because of his father. He knew what it was like to be avoided. His father wasn’t a mob boss, of course, but still. Maybe Gilgamesh shared a similar experience when it came to making friends? Arthur shuddered. He didn’t want to think he had anything in common with someone like Gilgamesh. Someone on the wrong side of the law. Someone so haughty and obnoxious. He scoffed, thinking of how pissed his dad would be if, by some freak chance, the two of them became friends. 

You feel bad for him? Don’t. He’s coasting through life on the notoriety and means of his family, commanding power and getting rich while walking on the backs of the working class.

“You’re right, I won’t get involved with him.” Arthur said, finally, still feeling that same pang of guilt.

“Good.” Arash said, proud of him. “Just let Passionlip serve him drinks at the bar and let that be that.”

\--

  
  


Apparently, Gilgamesh wasn’t going to let it be so easy.

The next day in class, Arthur tried to be clever and found a different seat, in the back of the lecture hall but, again, Gilgamesh sat next to him. He even seemed amused at Arthur’s apparent attempt to elude him.

“So what else do you do at that bar, Pendragon?”

Gilgamesh’s use of his last name caught Arthur off-guard. He never gave his last name, did he? “Make drinks, serve them, and clean glasses. That’s it.”

Gilgamesh smirked. “Tell me, what would you consider your specialty?”

“A Manhattan,” Arthur responded with confidence. ”I have the perfect liquor to make it, and I know how to prepare it just right. Took a lot of practice.”

“Then I know what I’m ordering next time. Will you be manning the bar tonight?”

Arthur felt suddenly very backed into a corner. He was doing exactly what Arash told him not to. He couldn’t lie to the man, as it wasn’t in his nature, and he knew he would get caught, anyway. He’d be there, as usual, and Gilgamesh and his people would be there, too.

“Yes… why?”

“I’ll be there. Why don’t you hang out with us?”

‘Us’? “I can’t, not on the job.”

“What a pity. I guess I’ll just have to sample your company through a drink.”

Unless Arthur was mistaken, which, with his social skills, could entirely be the case, Gilgamesh was sounding interested in him. Arthur, though confused and somewhat ashamed, admitted that he found himself interested, as well. If only there weren’t so many factors telling him what a piss-poor idea pursuing this relationship would be.

\--

Arthur showed up to the bar, tied an apron around his waist, and got to work, nervously obsessing over the Manhattan he knew he’d be tasked with preparing later that night. He did remember how to make one, right? Maybe Arash wouldn’t notice that Gilgamesh had taken a sudden interest in him? As much as it pained him to keep secrets, he’d rather not let him know he was fraternizing with the enemy. He was the enemy, right?

Arthur made drinks and served them until, like clockwork, Gilgamesh and his cohorts arrived and headed to their regular table in the back. Gilgamesh looked Arthur’s way and gave a finger-wagging gesture for him to come over.

Arash glared at him and shook his head with a clear, “No,” but Arthur went over anyway. Gilgamesh was still a customer, after all, and he couldn’t just ignore one of the bar’s best patrons.

“What can I get you, sir?”

“Pretending not to know me outside of school? How heartless,  _ Arthur _ .”

First Pendragon, now Arthur. It seemed Arthur’s name changed depending on Gilgamesh’s mood. If Gilgamesh ever addressed him by his middle name, Arthur knew he should definitely run for the door.

“I know, a Manhattan, right? I just wanted to make sure you didn’t change your mind.”

“I always know exactly what I want. My men will each have one too.”

Arthur nodded, slightly tensed by Gilgamesh’s mention of ‘his men’ rather than ‘his friends,’ and returned to the bar and set to work. It was a drink rarely ordered--a shame since Arthur was so good at mixing them--so the quality vermouth they had in store for this drink was aplenty. He mixed the drinks silently, trying not to look Arash’s way as he loaded a tray and took them to the table. Gilgamesh gave him a look that suggested he remain and wait for his judgment, so Arthur stayed. The mafia never killed anyone over a poorly made drink, right?

Gilgamesh took a deep sip, swirled the drink, and looked at Arthur curiously.

“I’m surprised. Unlike your father, you’re no liar. This is acceptable.”

Arthur's first reaction to the assessment was that of pleasant surprise, until his attention immediately swung the other direction upon realising the weight of his words. “My father…?”

“The politician in all the ads, right? I’ve never met an honest one in my life and I doubt he is, either.”

Arthur briefly worried that the mention of his father suggested more personal involvement, but he knew the high and mighty Uther would never have dealings with the mob. He… had his reasons, for sure. Arthur breathed a small sigh of relief knowing it was just blanket commentary on the corruption in politics. But then--  _ how did Gilgamesh know Arthur was his son _ ?

Before he could ask, Gilgamesh waved him away. “You can leave now.”

“What? Oh, of course.” Arthur stammered. He could feel Arash’s eyes boring holes into the back of his head from across the bar.

Arash immediately yanked him aside, into the back room, and strictly admonished him for talking to Gilgamesh. He, of course, knew Arthur didn’t really have a choice in the matter, though he had hoped to do anything he could to prevent their engagement. However, he knew that once this group set their eyes on you, they were hard to let go. Arash was intensely worried about Arthur-- worried that he would be  _ next _ .

Arthur assured him, they were only classmates. Can’t get roped into anything if you stay classmates.

\--

While Arthur hadn’t been invited to Gilgamesh’s table again, they had been seeing each other in class.

Arthur wasn’t sure what Gilgamesh was to him, but he found himself getting more comfortable in the blond’s company. There were moments where he’d address Gilgamesh a little more casually and less… well, terrified than how he was before. Gilgamesh seemed to have noticed, and would work his way into those little crevices in Arthur’s cracked facade, seeing what he could pull out. Gilgamesh had a way of leading people, a commanding presence that didn’t waver. More curious was that he noticed this in Arthur as well.

“Leader type? Are you sure?” Arthur asked.

“Of course I’m sure. You tend to take charge while everyone else would rather mess around on their phones or stay silent. You’re not afraid of challenging the professor. It may make you seem over-ambitious, sure, but it also means you aren’t scared of standing out from the crowd.”

Arthur wasn’t sure if he believed all that. If anything, he just felt bad when a professor would ask a question only for no one to answer. Responding was the decent thing to do. “I’m flattered you think that of me, but really--”

“Don’t question it. A leader doesn’t rule by making excuses for their confidence.”

Arthur felt thoroughly admonished, but in a good way. He nodded. “R-right.”

As he spent more time in the company of the blond, Arthur realized that his assumptions about mafia types may have been based mostly on stereotypes and were perhaps not entirely true. Gilgamesh was a lot more human than he thought. He’d check his cell phone from time to time, brush his hair behind his ears, and would occasionally glance towards Arthur, stealing a peek into his eyes.

Arthur didn’t quite understand the latter. Really, there was nothing spectacular about Arthur’s eyes. They were blueish-green. Simple.

Yet Gilgamesh couldn’t seem to get enough of them.

\--

Eventually, they were assigned to the same project. Arthur wondered-- no, suspected if Gilgamesh pulled the strings to make that happen. Could one really bribe a teacher that way? He didn’t want to find out. Arthur had some anxiety about it, but… nothing could be done, right? Besides, if even brought that idea to the teacher, he was no better than the kids in his high school, wanting nothing to do with the son of a policeman.

_ It’s just homework _ , Arthur thought, _ chill out _ .

The library was empty and perfect for studying and at first, Gilgamesh seemed focused at the task at hand. Asking questions as they typed on their laptops, collaborating in the same document. Gilgamesh’s discussions with Arthur were purely regarding forensic investigation, and he spoke with great familiarity on the subject. This, admittedly, made Arthur a bit uncomfortable; he didn’t want to know exactly why Gilgamesh knew so much.

This was fine, Arthur thought. He didn’t know why he had been so worried; they were classmates working on the same project, the most banal college activity you could do. Nothing out of the ordinary and no reason to stress. That is, until Arthur felt something rub up against his leg.

Gilgamesh just kept typing, like nothing unusual was going on. He kept the perfect poker face as he asked Arthur questions about their project, while his foot slowly crept up his calf. Arthur answered and tried to stay focused because, god damn it, what else could he do? Acknowledge it? Tell him to stop? Arthur had to admit he enjoyed the unexpected attention, but perhaps he was misreading the harmless, playful action as flirtatious?

“Something amiss, Pendragon?”

Arthur was caught off-guard by the sudden break in silence. 

“What? No… no. Just… thinking about work, is all.”

“Ah. You can’t think about work all the time, you know.”

Gilgamesh smirked, a knowing smile that quite clearly confirmed Arthur’s suspicions. He was flirting with him.  _ Oh, hell _ . Let no one be unassured: Gilgamesh was a beautiful creature, basically flawless in appearance, and it made Arthur’s poor, bisexual heart beat all the faster. This is a bad idea, this is a bad idea, stop stop stop, repeated in his mind. Arthur needed to get some distance and plan what the hell to do next.

“I’m gonna go grab another book--”

Gilgamesh’s eyes followed Arthur as he hurried to a different section of the library. Arthur turned a corner and leaned against the shelves, trying to catch his breath and calm down. What if Gil was just fucking with him? That was certainly possible. Mafia-types are known to be cunning and deceitful, aren’t they? He likely noticed things about Arthur that Arthur barely recognized about himself.

Gilgamesh’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

“Greek mythology? This doesn’t look like it’ll help with our project,does it? The Iliad? The Odyssey? Are we putting Zeus on trial?”

“No, I just… needed some space to breathe.”

“ _ Oh, _ feeling a bit flustered? So you do catch on.”

_ Shit, he _ was _ flirting with me _ , Arthur thought. “I mean, your foot was on my leg.”

“It would’ve gone higher if you stayed still.”

Arthur made a noise not unlike a verbal keysmash. “What do you want with me?”

“I believe I’ve made my intentions quite clear. Do you make people speak so you don’t have to, Pendragon? Cowardly.”

“No, no… I just… I feel so…”

“Oh? So what?”

“Just a little nervous…”

“About me?” Gilgamesh cocked an eyebrow. “Or about my family?”

“Both?”

“Tch. I wouldn’t worry about them. I’m not involved with them any more than I have to be, and I’m certainly not so deranged as to sic them on my exes. So why not have a little fun?”

Arthur swallowed, hard.Think of something, quick. “I--” Now would be a bad time to lie and claim he was straight. “A little fun?” He repeated, cautiously.

“Nobody comes to this part of the library at this hour, do they, Arthur?”

“Right, that’s why I--”

Gilgamesh kissed him.

Arthur’s eyes shot open wide in surprise. His hands immediately grabbed hold of Gil’s shoulders in an instinctive attempt to push the blond away. Gilgamesh, however, held firmly in place, stealing as much of Arthur’s lips as he could in spite of his feeble resistance.

“I…” Remembering his promise to Arash, Arthur weighed his options. “I should go.”

“You should, but you won’t.”

Fuck. How could a man render him so helpless so quickly? Arthur might have dove headfirst into this if it weren’t for the fact that this guy was tied to the mob. That was a serious red flag. Arthur gave a nervous laugh, a little ‘are you serious?’ laugh, but Gilgamesh’s eyes confirmed it-- he was serious.

As long as Arash didn’t find out about it, it was okay, right? If only Gilgamesh would have mercy on him, but there was none in those red eyes. 

Gilgamesh leaned into Arthur heavily, backing him against the bookcase and sliding his hands underneath his shirt.

Arthur may have had every reason in the world to run away, but he decided this could continue--but he could let it happen only this one time. You win a hand at the casino then you cash out. After all, like Gilgamesh had said, it was just a little fun. He could be okay with this, Gilgamesh obviously was, and maybe he could ease a bit of that loneliness hidden deep inside of him.

However, that’s how they got you. You have a taste of its sweetness, and you can’t help but come back for more.


End file.
